Two Dramione Ficlets
by LynstHolin
Summary: Just what the title says-light reading.


Prompt: 'Pretty in pink'

With that prompt, I HAD to make it movie-universe.

Title: Not A Princess

...

Still sobbing, Hermione shoved through a door and into the nearest bathroom. She'd had such high hopes for the evening.

First of all, there was _the dress_. The most perfect dress to have ever existed. When she'd spun around in front of the full-length mirror in her dorm room, admiring how the ombre-dyed layers fluttered, Ginny had asked her if she felt like a princess. "Of course not," Hermione had said, "Princesses were unfortunate, powerless pawns who were married off to men twice their age for their fathers' political gain. Why would I want to feel like one?" Ginny had just binked at her. "What I feel like... what I feel like..." Hermione'd touched her shining hair. "Beautiful."

Yes, she had felt beautiful. And she'd known she was going to spend the night on the arm of a handsome Quidditch star, dancing the night away at her first ball. It should have been magical. It would have been magical, if it wasn't for _Ron_.

Hermione wiped away her tears, giggling a little as she recalled ordering Ron and Harry off to bed. She heard retching sounds coming from a toilet stall. "Are you all right?" she called. All she got in return was a feeble grunt. When the vomiting stopped, the stall door opened, and Draco Malfoy came staggering out. "That's what you get for drinking," Hermione said. Malfoy and his Slytherin pals had been passing a flask around while the Weird Sisters played. Obviously, whatever they'd been drinking was more than Malfoy could handle. His robes and tie were gone, he had buttons missing from his shirt, and his shoes were untied.

He leaned on a sink, staring at himself blearily. "You do realize you're in the girls' lavatory, right?" Hermione asked. Draco didn't reply. Turning the cold water tap on full blast, he stuck his entire head underneath for a couple of minutes. Afterwards, he shook off like a dog, then fumbled his wand out of his pocket and attempted a drying spell that only succeeded in singing his eyebrows.

"Oh, dear. Let me." Hermione took Draco's wand from him, since her dress didn't allow for her to carry her own. "_Dessicanto!_ There." His hair stuck straight up, but he was dry again.

Draco swayed on his feet while he stared at her. Hermione braced herself for an insult, and stepped back a little just in case the funny look on his face presaged more puking. "Yuh-yer real pretty. Pansy says yer not but she's jush jealous. Yer like-like-like a prinshesh."

"Actually, most princesses led miserable lives," Hermione said, smiling.

"Huh?" Draco's blood-shot eyes drooped, and he pitched forward.

Hermione broke his fall and lowered him to the floor. "_Boys_." Well, this gave her the perfect opportunity to use the levitation spell she'd just taught herself. She floated him out of the bathroom and down the hall.

"_What have you done to him_?" Pansy Parkinson screeched.

"Settle down, Parkinson, he's just drunk." Hermione gently let him down. "When he's put to bed, he can't lay on his back. He could choke if he throws up again."

"Pretty in pink," Draco mumbled. Parkinson, who was _not _wearing pink, gave Hermione a murderous glare. Well, there was no allowance for a wand in Parkinson's dress, either, so Hermione didn't have to worry about being hexed as soon as she turned her back.

Hermione was almost back at her dorm before she realized that she still had Draco's wand. She would give it back to him in the morning. He would be sick and headachy and regretting the night before. He surely wouldn't remember what he'd said to her. Hermione couldn't explain why that made her feel a little sad.

...

Prompt: Ice cream

Title: What A Malfoy Wants, A Malfoy Gets

It was closing time at Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor when Draco Malfoy strode in. "A carton of your white chocolate macadamia," he said.

One of Florean's grandsons cringed a little as he said, "I'm sorry, Mr. Malfoy, we're all out for the day."

"Make some more, then," Draco replied.

"B-but it's time to go home," whined the boy.

"I came all the way here for some white chocolate macadamia ice cream, and I will not leave until I get some," Draco commanded, gray eyes ablaze.

The boy backed up. "It would take us two hours to make more."

"Then do it," Draco snapped.

The boy's eyes widened as he took in the pile of Galleons that Draco laid on the counter. "Y-yes, sir."

Two hours later, Draco walked through his front door with a carton of ice cream. "You've been gone for so long," Hermione called from the living room of their flat. "Is everything all right?"

"Don't get up! Everything's fine." Draco walked into the kitchen and opened a drawer, pulling out a monogrammed spoon. He pulled the top off the carton of ice cream and stuck the spoon in it.

In the living room, Hermione sat in a rocking chair. "Oh, just what Junior wanted!" When she reached for the ice cream, the afghan on her lap slipped down, showing her swollen stomach.

"Anything for you and the baby," Draco said as he kissed his wife on the forehead.


End file.
